


Free Will

by EmilliaGryphon, Skarabrae_stone



Series: Groot Steve Rocket Bucky: Scenes From a Life [3]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Escape, Friendship, Gen, Hurt, Origin Story, Origins, Platonic Bonding, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilliaGryphon/pseuds/EmilliaGryphon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skarabrae_stone/pseuds/Skarabrae_stone
Summary: Bucky can't quell his curiosity for long but when Rocket answers his question, he gets more then he bargained for.*Content Warnings: discussions of torture, animal abuse, graphic descriptions of violence, and ptsd.*





	Free Will

_89P13 strained against the metal clamps that held him down to the table. A  figure loomed over him, saw in hand. “_

_B….barnes…?” 89P13’s body shook so hard he could barely form the words. Bucky’s blue eyes narrowed, his mouth obscured by the mask he wore. He picked up the saw. 89P13 braced for the pain. “Barnes! B..Bucky! Wh...what are yah’ doing?!” In answer, 89P13 felt the serrated blade carve through his arm. He looked, pleading up at Bucky, before his vision went black._

Rocket shot upward, fur on edge. _Safe, you’re safe. Just a nightmare._ In the darkness he scanned the room, pitch black but for the red and white traffic lights that danced against Groot’s bark like light above water. Groot sat upright, thin branches anchoring him to the wall, a drop of sap leaking from the corner of his mouth. _Good, didn’t wake him this time._ Rocket smiled, hopping down from where he had scrounged together an amalgamation of discarded blankets, quilts and pillows for a bed. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep; only more nightmares would await him. Rocket walked towards the door, stopping to brush up against one of Groot’s legs. He nuzzled against it affectionately, closing his eyes as he did so. In his sleep Groot reached down stroking his fur. As always the comfort of his friend soothed his heart back to normal. That solid presence, always ready to hold him and guide him from his memories. Groot rumbled, cracking an eye.

“It’s okay, don’t get up,” Rocket murmured, nuzzling against the flora colossus once more before standing and leaving, closing the door gently behind him. He padded down the hallway, stopping as he made his way to the living room. Bucky sat on the couch, the couch where--three nights earlier--he had revealed to Rocket the truth behind his creation. A prototype developed by Hydra before they attempted their cybernetics on humans, or one specific human, Bucky Barnes. That had been Rocket’s purpose, the reason for his torture. A terrible reason, but a reason filling what was once the black hole of ambiguity.

“Can’t sleep?” Bucky asked. Rocket nodded, coming closer. “Yeah, neither could I.”

There was no point in telling the humie about the nightmares. _Poor bastard already blames himself for every other thing he’s done. No sense in making him feel worse. I already burden Groot enough with this stuff,_ he thought, scratching his ear nervously. It wasn’t the humie’s fault that Hydra wanted to do their experiments on animals first. _Animal,_ the word left a sourness in Rocket’s belly.

“Nightmares?” Bucky asked, as if reading his mind.

Rocket nodded.

“I get them, too.”

The raccoonoid did his best not to imagine. Silence descended once more around them.

“How’d you get out?” Bucky wondered aloud after a moment. “Did Groot...help you escape?”

“Nah,” Rocket dismissed with a wave of his hand, coming closer. “Groot’s got his own story.”

 _“_ So how…?”

Rocket held up a finger, cutting Bucky off as he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of beer, cracking them open with his claws.

“I don’t need….” Bucky attempted.

“You asked, you drink.” Rocket ordered, handing him the bottle. The humie nodded, taking a gulp. For his part, the raccoonoid drank down half the bitter foamy beverage before he hoisted himself up on the couch next to Bucky.

 _“_ If what you told me is true then they were trying to make me a weapon like you,” he said carefully, “but it was tough, giving us sentience.” Rocket took another sip, staring at the shadowy rug before them. “Wasn’t long until the scientists figured out ya couldn’t get sentience without free will, no matter what they tried.” Rocket shivered. “And they tried a lot. Free will means ideas. Choices.”

Bucky nodded, wringing the bottle he held in his hands.

“They never gave us no choice, but pretty soon I started getting ideas of my own.” He flashed a toothy grin that made Bucky shudder.

Rocket took another swig of beer, waiting for that warm fuzziness to dull his mind. “I tried to get out six times before I eventually escaped.” At this, he pointed to his wrist, pushing the thick fur aside to expose a nasty car. Bucky looked at with recognition. “One,” Rocket pointed to his right foot,  showing a similar abrasive scar on the ankle. “Two,” the punishment for escaping the third and fourth times were marked on his opposite limbs. Bucky took in each one with an understanding nod. Rocket had seen only a fraction of Bucky’s own scars, down his remaining arm. “Five,” Rocket tilted his head to uncover a bulbous knot of scarification around his neck.

“Six?” Bucky asked. The raccoonoid blinked, glancing at the man and quickly looking away, shaking his head. There were some scars he’d never show. Luckily, for the first time in his life, someone understood that very well and did not press further. The lights of a passing car cascaded through the dark of their living room and Rocket took another drink.

“So how did you...” Bucky began.

“I killed a lot of people,” the raccoonoid snapped. “I murdered all the fuckers in that lab. Even the orderlies who never did nothing to us, but didn’t do nothing to stop it either.” He shook, each hair on his body raised with tension. “I finally found the freak responsible for these--” Rocket gestured to the implants on his collar bones.

He grinned wickedly, eyes far away “….gave him some implants of his own. A taste of his own medicine.” _Claws tearing, screaming, bloodlust._ “Opened him up and pulled things out,” the grin disappeared. “Stuffed other things in,” he whispered.

“Did you shoot him afterwards?” Bucky asked softly.

Rocket took a dreg of his beer and shook his head. “Nah, that would’ve proven his success.” He took a deep breath, staring at the ground. “I did what instinct told me to do.” He swallowed the image. “I clawed his eyes out and...I mauled his face off. It wasn’t quick. I made sure of that.” Rocket licked his lips before taking another drink. No amount of booze had washed the taste of his creator’s blood from his tongue.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky lowered his head, rubbing his face with his hands.

“After that, I ran, shooting anyone in my way….I found the weapons storage facility, took all I could, rigged some explosives, and blew up the building.”

“The explosion of Building 19.” Bucky remembered the red alerts. “They assumed it was a Shield operative.”

Rocket bit back a grin at the thought.

“And the others in there with you?” Bucky probbed gently.

The raccoonoid turned to him, tail twitching. He shook his head, red eyes glowing in the darkness, but there was sorrow there, regret.

“I got off that planet as soon as I could,” Rocket continued, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“What did you use to blow up the building?” Bucky asked.

The raccoonoid was silent for a long time before his lips curled into a grin. “A rocket.”

“I’m glad you got out.” Bucky looked at him and raised his bottle. “To freedom.”

Rocket raised his own and toasted. “To freedom.”

They finished their drinks and sat in silence, neither wanting to go back to sleep. They talked on the couch until the booze began to make Rocket’s head swim. He fell into a comfortable sleep, and may or may not have remained so when Bucky’s large hand began to stroke his fur.

-

“Buck?” Steve asked sleepily the next morning, rubbing his eyes as he came into the living room the next morning. “I heard you get up last night, are you ok….”

“Shhh!”

Steve stopped in his tracks and his heart nearly melted. Bucky sat on the couch, a finger to his lips, and pointed. Curling in his lap lay Rocket. The creature was as snug as Steve had ever seen him, his ringed tail wrapped around himself and hiding his snout. Bucky continued to gently run his hand down the raccoonoid’s back, grinning from ear to ear with pride.

“I’m getting the camera...” Steve started, but Bucky held a finger to his lips.

“No! He can never know!” he whispered.

“I am…” Groot stopped short behind Steve, looking at the two on the couch, and beamed. After a few minutes, Bucky lifted Rocket up and placed him in Groot’s waiting arms, in way someone would move a sleeping infant. Bucky gave Rocket a final pat on the head.

“No nightmares now, huh?”

Rocket’s little snores were his own answer.


End file.
